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of that!”
    Miles and Belle looked up sharply at Camille’s exclamation.
    The girl seemed to shrink from their stares. “No, thank you,” she whispered, drawing the hem of her skirt in. “I don’t know anyone in London. That’s part of my problem.”
    “Camille,” Miles said sharply, “I told Miss Baynes there would be time for that later. Let her be.”
    “She wasn’t troubling me,” the girl said quickly.
    Oh, wonderful, Camille thought glumly. Now the heroine has to protect me from my own brother. “I wasn’t bothering her, Miles,” she said defensively. “I just asked if there was anything she needed.”
    “I suspect she’s a bit overwhelmed,” Miles said. “Don’t worry, Miss Baynes. When Lord Dalton comes downstairs, we’ll hear you out and try to resolve your problems. It’s just that there’s a more pressing one now.”
    Even her happily married brother was quick to defend the unknown chit, Camille thought glumly. Beauty was obviously as powerful a defense for a woman when she was among gentlemen as it was a danger when she met up with rogues. That was a thing she herself would never know.
    She looked at the girl again and felt guilty. Maybe this poor creature didn’t know that either. Maybe she’d never been among gentlemen. The girl was watching her, wide-eyed and wary.
    “Well, then,” Camille asked her, “is there anything I can do for you?”
    “You’re very kind,” the girl said softly. “I didn’t think that a woman of your class would be that kind to me…after the way we met.”
    “A woman?” Camille blurted, flustered. Surely she and this Nell were of an age? Was she being insulted? She met the slight the same way she’d meet a compliment, straight on, with incredulous honesty.
    “Well, first off,” she said a shade too heartily, “I’m not a woman exactly. That is, I am. But I’m only just turned twenty-one. You see, a woman is usually someone who has at least a decade more to their name. Well, at least, that’s how I…” She paused, flustered, as it occurred to her that she really was now legally a woman and not a girl anymore.
    “Oh! I’m so sorry. I thought you were older,” the girl said.
    Camille felt even worse. “Well, there you are,” she finally managed to say stupidly. Not wanting toshow her hurt, she added, “And our class is like any other, you know. There are good and bad people in it. How old are you?”
    Now was it Nell who hesitated? A second later, she said, “Eighteen, my lady.”
    A beautiful younger girl, Camille thought sadly. “I’m not a lady. My brother’s a viscount, but he inherited that title from an uncle. I’m plain Miss Croft, Camille Croft.”
    Nell nodded. It would be easier chatting up a clamshell, Camille thought. At least then she wouldn’t expect an answer. The girl sat straight, her slender hands twisting in her lap, clearly apprehensive, as though she were being threatened. It was odd how one’s companions changed one’s sense of self, Camille thought. Because if Eric Ford made her feel dainty, this delicate creature made her feel like a hulking brute of a girl—woman, she corrected herself with painful honesty.
    “Well,” she persisted. “If there’s anything you want, you can tell me, you know.”
    The girl nodded.
    “Don’t hesitate,” Camille added.
    “I won’t,” Nell said, ducking her head. “Thank you.”
    Camille rose, tired of feeling like an ogre.
    Then Rafe Dalton came striding into the room.
    “He does well,” Rafe reported.
    It seemed everyone in the room let out their breath.
    “That is to say,” he went on, “he has the feverand the blasted shakes, but I’ve seen him worse, and so has Brenna. It appears the intensity of the fever is abating over time. But he still suffers from it. Even so, we can expect him to get better faster and for the effects to be less each time he has an attack. As for that other attack…” His eyes slid to the corner of the room where Nell sat. “The